


Almost... Human

by TropicalKazoo



Series: Sadly Undeniable [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Also only for a brief moment, And physical sensation, Asphyxiation, Begging, Bottom Bloodhound (Apex Legends), Canon Non-Binary Character, First Time, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Yes I gave Revenant a retractable dick, but only for a brief moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TropicalKazoo/pseuds/TropicalKazoo
Summary: “I am… not certain,” Revenant finally speaks, dragging his feet more than the other as he follows behind.“Of what?” Hound doesn’t turn around when they talk, never even offering a simple glance.Revenant groans, low and throaty for someone without an actual throat. “Of why I came here.”“Yet here you are,” their words are short but not suspicious, nary a quiver of worry to their tone.“Yet here I am,” he confirms.There’s a pull to this worthy fighter, a magnetism Revenant can’t seem to fight - not that he’s all that willing to struggle against it. A lot of the things Bloodhound does to him makes him feel almost… human again.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Revenant (Apex Legends), Bloodhound/Revenant (Apex Legends)
Series: Sadly Undeniable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191035
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Almost... Human

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing Revhound, and I had so much fun writing about Revenant's inner turmoil here, it was honestly hard to stop  
> Don't be shy and leave a comment if you enjoyed reading this!  
> (Translation notes at the end)

Revenant is aware that this is all in his head. Emotions and pain and everything that would make him human enough, it’s all just wires connecting - a computer reading files from a chip somewhere between here and Gridiron. He understands that it is not real, yet the pain is as life-like today as it was hundreds of years ago when he wore a skinsuit like the rest of them. Bullets piercing his armor and shredding his chassis, it _hurts_ all the same.

Another thing he understands, unequivocally, is pleasure. _Joy_. The thrill of the hunt, the gratification of a kill, the delight that floods through him as light fades in another’s eyes.

The near _arousing_ shock to his system when he’s face to face with someone he considers _almost_ an equal. Their beastial roar when engaging on a hunt does _something_ to Revenant that he assumed long gone; something that he knows as _desire_. Enemies or teammates, Bloodhound’s unstoppable skill is a wonder to behold, and Revenant believes that the two of them could do _great things_ together if it wasn’t for Bloodhound having some semblance of morale, of not just killing without strict purpose. The _fun_ they could have.

_If only._

It’s something he thinks about more than he’d care to admit. Not exactly dreams, since he never truly sleeps; the darkness when he recharges his battery doesn’t allow for such things. But in moments alone, in the tunnels beneath Kings Canyon, on the dropship between matches, or whenever he hears Bloodhound’s growling when they hunt, chase, pursue, he _imagines_ it all. His old body, his new body, whatever Bloodhound might be hiding beneath those layers, it doesn’t matter to him. What matters is the unfortunate knowledge that he _wants_ it. Wants _them_.

 _Wanting_ for a physical connection. As much as it is all in his head, it is also in his body, and he curses his creators for allowing such a weakness to exist within him like this. Craving, wanting, it’s all so fragile. It’s despicable, it’s an abomination, it’s a painful reminder. Of what was and what now is.

But worst of all, it is _irrational_.

And it is why he finds himself here, in the cold dark, in a tree on the planet of Talos, the moon’s glow filtering weakly through the tall pines, casting a near magical shimmer on the flawless snow.

He doesn’t know what it is that Bloodhound is hunting- hasn’t been paying attention to whatever might fall prey tonight, for Revenant has been far too fixated on the shape of the honorable hunter, the quiet of every perfectly calculated step, the patience displayed by them.

There’s a lot of champions on the roster now, but Bloodhound is the only one that Revenant would consider _impressive_ , in all his fickle honesty.

“How long will you remain in waiting, _félagi_?” Bloodhound asks, the first sound out of them for hours.

Revenant stays absolute still. Not that he believes silence would convince the other that they’re alone, but more for the sake of thinking back at what might have revealed his presence here.

“Are you going to come out, or must you insist on hiding forever?”

He’s not sure himself. Not sure why he’s even here to begin with, and now he silently curses himself for having been _foolish_ enough to think he could stalk an unparalleled hunter like Bloodhound. Truly they’d be unstoppable together.

Without a word, Revenant climbs head first down the tree he’s been perched upon; stays on all fours as his claws pierce the frozen ground, crawling up behind the hunter. And when he stands he towers above Bloodhound, his shadow all consuming of the light that shines from behind to illuminate them both in pale blue, his eyes yellow like the sun, piercing the obscure darkness.

There’s no apparent hesitation, no fear or despair in Bloodhound’s posture when they turn around to gaze up at the simulacrum.

The silence between them is _deafening_ , the entirety of the world vanishing as the two of them wait for the other to make the first move. Attack, speak, run, whatever might be appropriate in a tense situation like this, the air here charged with something unknown.

Even to Revenant this moment is uncertain. He cannot decide what exactly it is he wants. His “body” wants one thing, his “mind” another, both stark differences, both equally _desired_.

 _Pleasure_ or _pain_.

“Why have you come here, _velafolk_?"

The truth to that answer is _infuriating,_ and he can't decide who's to blame for it all.

The quiet draws on for an eternity as Revenant takes his time to contemplate. He didn't think past the journey here, and wasn't originally planning on engaging at all, in fact he'd have preferred to simply spectate the Gods' hunter for the time being.

"Silent as always I see,” with that, Bloodhound turns and continues their walk, more careless in their movement this time, as if they’ve given up whatever hunt they were on.

“I am… not certain,” Revenant finally speaks, dragging his feet more than the other as he follows behind.

“Of what?” Hound doesn’t turn around when they talk, never even offering a simple glance.

Revenant groans, low and throaty for someone without an actual throat. “Of why I came here.”

“Yet here you are,” their words are short but not suspicious, nary a quiver of worry to their tone.

“Yet here I am,” he confirms.

There’s a pull to this worthy fighter, a magnetism Revenant can’t seem to fight - not that he’s all that willing to struggle against it. A lot of the things Bloodhound does to him makes him feel almost… _human_ again, and perhaps that’s why he says,

“Your presence angers me.”

At that Hound stops and turns to face their follower, giving Revenant no warning till he’s too close, feet bumping against the other’s boots.

“Then why do you seek me out?”

Through the darkness and up this close, Revenant can see how Hound’s shoulders raise a bit, fists clenching, their stance tensing up. And for whatever reason it might be, the change _excites_ him. The _threat_ he seemingly poses upon others is an _alluring experience_.

“Not only physically,” he admits, perhaps more than he should, “Your entire _existence_ bothers me consistently, skinsuit.”

Bloodhound’s hand reaches for the shiny, sharp axe that clings to their hip. “So you have come here to finish me, then? Shooting me in the arena not enough for you anymore?”

“It was never enough,” Revenant drawls out sooner than his mind can deny that thought.

“I do not wish to fight you.”

“And perhaps I do not wish to fight you either, dog.”

“Then why have you come here to me? To my village?” Hound demands with a raised tone.

Revenant doesn’t answer that; he refuses to, for the honesty of it all might just be too damning. His last shred of _humanity_ is not something he truly wishes to hold on to, yet it is pitiful how dear it is to him nevertheless. Even now, nothing more than the fact that they’re alone like this, him and them, is near _provocative_. 

And it may be that he has finally lost it, he thinks as he gives into that piece within that begs for _this_. Revenant reaches out, slow yet certain, testing the water with a certain intent in mind. With one claw, he scrapes off a strip of red paint from the gasmask Hound wears, the other never even flinching as metal meets metal. He continues like so, down over where the mask covers their chin, past where the edge ends and their throat begins.

Fingers spread out, Bloodhound’s neck fits perfectly in Revenant’s open grip, and even as he holds his hand there, nothing changes, the Hound still stoic and silent. So he continues. Squeezes gently, the thought of holding their life in his hand _arousing_ ; a heat that he knows isn’t actually there builds within, and the tighter he presses, the more he’s _awoken_.

He doesn’t relent till there’s a _gasp_. A sudden, barely-there noise, yet he heard it and he _understood_ it. And perhaps Bloodhound understands at last, too. The hand that once sought protection from the axe on their hip, now grasps at Revenant’s forearm, not to struggle but maybe instead to _encourage_ this palpable urge that they both might just share in this moment of charged solitude.

An unintentional, guttural, _enticing_ growl emerges from deep within Revenant. He gives another expectant squeeze to the other’s throat, and once more there’s a sound from behind the mask, although this time it is far closer to a _moan_ than anything else.

How interesting, he thinks, that something so simple, so trivial is what ends the last bit of self-restraint this simulacrum held on to. A singular, lascivious noise that he _needs_ to hear again.

With his free hand, Revenant reaches far down, bending slightly as he finds his way beneath the tan tunic Bloodhound wears, to trace his fingertips along the waistline of their pants. As brutal and remorseless as he usually is, there’s a pause now, here, a question almost, asking for permission, allowing for Hound to change their mind.

But there’s no rejection to be found, never a “no” nor a “stop”. Simply their other hand, moving up to touch what would be Revenant’s right bicep. And that is the only incentive he needs to continue.

As his fingers play swiftly with the button and zipper of Bloodhound’s pants, their breathing grows louder, _excited_ almost, so eager and willing and _erotic_ the way they gasp for air.

Revenant slips his freezing, steel hand beneath every layer that Hound wears - which is _three_ apparently - fingers driving through thick and coarse pubic hair, and finally dips into the _wet heat_ that has gathered between their legs, followed _immediately_ by an all too loud, relieved _moan_.

Lust swirls vividly in the lower parts of Revenant’s own structure, listening dearly to the low and _restrained_ grunts Bloodhound lets out as he rather gently explores a part of another person he hasn’t been this near in _decades_.

It is not as if he hasn’t thought about sex in all his time as _this thing_ that he is, and it is a curious thing that Hammond Robotics designed him to experience arousal at all, but he never cared to seek out another body before he met Bloodhound. Usually it was fine just to “take care of it” on his own, but if they will have him…

Despite being unable to see their expression, he still watches with an unblinking stare as he moves his hand _further_ , spreading their soaked lips apart, till the base of his palm presses against Bloodhound’s clit, teases the tip of one finger around their entrance.

They groan and grip at him harder, saying all they need to without as many words.

Revenant leans in closer, till his eyes reflect perfectly in the glass of the Hound’s goggles, to ensure that he doesn’t miss a single sound, gasp, moan, as he finally pushes his middle finger knuckle deep into the other’s pussy.

“ _A-ah! Mmh-_ ” it sounds from beneath the mask, their legs trembling from the way that finger curls inside of them. Were it not for the firm grip around their neck, Bloodhound might just have collapsed, or so Revenant suspects.

The assassin hums pleasantly at the elated grunts and whines that forms as he rubs his palm against Hound’s swollen clit; his movement grows methodical as he’s quick to learn the pattern that Bloodhound seem to enjoy the most, and perhaps being a sim might have some advantage in situations where a consistent rhythm is preferred.

And when he adds a second finger to his thrusts, the other starts what Revenant expects to be _cursing_ in their mother tongue, words that mingle rather _beautifully_ with their moaning.

“How interesting,” Revenant _teases_ , his tone deep and _indecent_. “Who’d have thought that even this hunter from the Gods would have such mortal desires.”

“Y-you are no different, _vel_ ,” Bloodhound barely manages words past their own euphoric trance.

“I am not,” he admits without shame.

Without warning, it all stops. Revenant retrieves his hand much to Bloodhound’s _audible_ dismay, and even goes as far as to let go of their throat. All too suddenly they’re expected to hold their own, and Hound stumbles backwards on uncertain legs till they find support against a tree.

“What now?”

The irritation in their voice amuses Revenant to a point where he can’t help but chuckle like thunder. He raises his hand into the moonlight to get a proper look at how _wet_ it is, the slickness running down his digits, then rubs his fingers together. He truly cannot remember when he was last this fervently _turned on_ , the hunger in him akin to that of any starved beast, it _aches_.

When he looks at Bloodhound again, they’re rubbing their neck where he undoubtedly left marks with his brutish grasp. Yet now that they’re free of him, they don’t run, no weapons have been brandished, rather they stand _waiting_. Revenant’s gaze travels further down to where their pants have fallen slightly down, exposing the insulating leggings beneath and the waistband of their trousers peeking out just above.

“You have not asked further for my intention,” he muses as he steps closer.

“I thought it clear, although I must admit I didn’t expect you to have these kinds of wants,” comes Bloodhound’s response. They don’t move away as Revenant stands looming above them again. “I thought your only want was to kill.”

“It was my only want once.”

“What changed?”

Revenant inspects Hound’s mask once more, his eyes gliding across where their lips might be concealed beneath, and for the first time through all of this, what he craves is a _kiss_. Something so simple, yet it abhors him to have had such a thought. Not that he can, granted his own mouth is purely for aesthetical reasons and not usable to any extent. 

“You.”

Silence drags on once again between them, and as he cannot see Hound’s face, it is near _impossible_ for Revenant to understand the meaning of it now.

But then there’s a hand on his chest, and that truly says more than words might have. Or perhaps Bloodhound is simply speechless, uncertain of whether or not they want to continue, for the next move is entirely in their hands.

And with it, they push Revenant just enough that they both step away from the tree that Hound was caged against.

“I…” never before has Revenant heard Bloodhound sound so… hesitant. “I have not done this in a long, long time.”

He remains silent as Bloodhound unhooks their shoulder plates, lifts the bandolier over their helmet, unbuckles the green armor that sits snug around their waist, all of it falling heavily onto the snow. However, despite shedding everything meant to protect them, they keep their helmet on, and truth be told Revenant doesn’t care to see their face or body.

All he cares about is how they turn around to drop to their hands and knees in the snow, bending over and arching their back to put their _lust_ on display. A perfect, enticing offering for the sim to ravage, and Revenant won’t even have time to doubt their desire for this, as Bloodhound isn’t shy to say,

“Please. Trust that I want this as much as you do.”

Revenant drops to his knees immediately at that honest request. He doesn’t bother taking in the view as he pulls down the last layers to expose Bloodhound; it is not of importance to his own release that he craves most ardently. Instead he reaches down to move his cloth aside and unsheaths his cock; a lengthy, authentic imitation of what he had in his vestigial flesh.

The decision for him to even have any such _limbs_ must only come from a rather perverted mind; the need for anything to be _fuckable_ is a very human trait it seems, but Revenant isn’t one to complain about _this_.

With his hand wrapped around the red silicone, he guides the head to where Bloodhound’s body remains dripping wet.

“ _Gods…_ ”

Revenant lets out an all too _erotic groan_ as he gently pushes in, fighting the very sudden, very _real_ urge to _slam_ into Bloodhound’s warm and slippery hole ruthlessly. It’s near _animalistic_ the craving he now feels, every sensor in his body demanding that he pounds with all his might.

He bends over, reaching up to dig his claws deep into the earth, latching himself onto the ground beneath them both as he once more cages in the hunter like they were the prey. With unnecessary caution, he drives his rather well-endowed prick deeper into the blissful heat, muscles expanding around him and contracting to the rhythm of Bloodhound’s elated keening.

It doesn’t feel like over exaggeration when he thinks that this is better than it was as a full human, but the 300 or so years _without_ another’s touch might add to the pleasure of finally being enveloped like so.

Once Revenant can sink no further - the base of his hardened dick fully meeting with the lips of Bloodhound’s pussy - he grinds his hips against the other’s ass, taking time to _appreciate_ the moment before he lets loose all of the pent up desire he’s been carrying around for _months_.

When Bloodhound reawakens him from his lustful trance by angling their head up to look at him. “You can move.”

Revenant grunts back, somewhat in confirmation, somewhat in irritation at their unexpected impatience. And so he does - pulls out a few good inches before sliding back in, achieving the first breathy moan from behind Hound’s mask.

Again he thrusts into those muscles that cling to him dearly; a tightness that could drive him blind with aroused madness, and the _loud response_ he gets is brimming with _salacious need_ in every vowel.

His own voice can’t be restrained as he starts _pounding_ , the vulgar _squelching_ of his cock plunging into Bloodhound’s soaked pussy the most enticing sound he has had the pleasure of experiencing for as long as he cares to remember. Cold steel slapping against warm, fleshy cheeks echoes through the pines, their intimacy disturbing the dead silence of night, and no matter how determined Hound is to keep low, their voice carries well.

Curses of a foreign tongue fills the space between them as Revenant _fucks_ Hound zealously, his claws still grasping at the hard ground proves to be perfect leverage for every hard _lunge_. He dares let go with one hand, instead brings it to hold with brutish force onto the hunter’s hip beneath the tunic, claws digging deep, eliciting more whines and illegible pleas from beneath him.

Bloodhound’s fists close around snow and dirt, ass pushed up as far as they can, giving it all to Revenant and taking everything with the same passion, the two of them falling into harmony coveted by the moon.

“ _I-I’m close_ ,” they gasp out, voice hoarse from attempting to control every single sound, and losing hard to the urge of letting their unexpected partner know the euphoria.

Revenant doesn’t care to respond, doesn’t really care if Bloodhound cums or not, the quick approach of his own climax far more valuable in this moment- 

His gruff, baritone voice stutters when the heat in his gut bursts like radiating fireworks, his body curling together, the arm by Hound’s hip moving around their waist to bring them closer as Revenant peaks. Every sensor in his body howls with the intoxicating pleasure, alarms blaring in his head to alert him of the overheating beneath his chassis as he tests the limits of his battery, risking blowing a fuse just for the chance to feel something so _vigorous_. 

  
  


There’s a moment where he thinks he might not have the power to move, as his body recovers from near sensory overload, steam rising from the scalding hot metal and valves hissing. Beneath him Bloodhound lays limp, panting and sighing, and for a beat, Revenant forgets what he is, _who_ he is, as he holds them with a sensation that is threateningly close to _affection_ ; his thumb for a brief second stroking the soft, muscular flesh he still clings to, before realisation hits him like a crashing ship and he pulls his hand away.

He doesn’t know why, or perhaps refuses to accept it, but there’s a question gnawing away at him.

“ _Are you ok?_ ” someone’s voice asks in his mind, but it never comes through.

Instead all he does is pull out from Bloodhound’s relaxed body to the melody of a displeased _whine_ , which affects him in a rather _physical_ sense, and tells him that it wouldn’t be all too hard to evoke _more_ in him.

As he stands up, Revenant gets a good view of the melted snow where his limbs had been; a ghost of his presence surrounding the dazed and heaving shape of the Gods’ finest warrior.

He walks around them and crouches at the side where their face is turned.

“I am alive still,” Bloodhound mutters through their exhaustion. “Although cold.”

They turn over in the snow to pull up their pants and close them, but remains on the ground.

“You burn hot like _solen_.”

Revenant keeps quiet once more. There’s a pain in his chest not unlike being shot, and to his misfortune he now understands the yearning he’s been feeling towards the other for a while, but to speak of it would be agonizing compared to pretending this is all it is. That it’s purely physical; a need to relieve tension and frustration and steam, both literally and not.

Bloodhound doesn’t linger and instead gets up to reattach their discarded armor and pouches.

Whatever this might have been is over now, the assassin muses, watching how Hound covers up their stocky and broad figure again. They are strong and worthy and… _admirable_. And soon they will be gone. This will be forgotten; something that happened to two people once and was never thought of again, because what is the use in dreaming of the past if all it will do is torture the presence. It’s only been minutes and Revenant already regrets it all, hating that he couldn’t leave well enough alone, that he was so weak to his own urges, and now this will haunt him for forever.

He wants to forget. He wants Bloodhound to forget. Weak and pitiful and vulnerable and-

Gloves tentatively cup his sharp, metallic features, gently tearing him away from the spiral his mind was falling down into, and he looks up to catch his own reflection in Bloodhound’s goggles. And if he had lungs, they would breathless in this debasing moment of… _tender touch_.

The glorious Hound speaks softly with words Revenant can’t translate, words he’s not meant to understand, words perhaps exposing thoughts he will ever only wish to know the truth of.

“Till we meet again, _félagi_.”

And the touch is gone, _they’re gone_ , walking into the woods with ease while Revenant feels frozen to the ground, _paralysed_ by what those hands on his “cheeks” might have meant.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation notes:  
> Félagi = Fellow, friend, companion, partner (non sexual)  
> Velafolk = Machine person  
> Vel = Machine/s  
> Solen = The Sun  
> -  
> Translations taken from the lore book and my own personal experience with Nordic languages


End file.
